Never Land
by Moody-Girl
Summary: Luna just wants to show someone her Never Land. And Ginny just wants somone to make her fly. A story of how Luna falls in love...and how she makes someone believe. GinnyLuna fic.
1. Never In My Land

Title: Never Land  
  
Author: Moody  
  
Pairing: Luna/Ginny, and a few other femslash pairings.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for now  
  
Summary: Story told from Luna's P.O.V. How Luna deals and copes with falling in love and being well...Luna.  
  
A/N: This is a work in progress and I'm not sure how it will turn out. I am putting all of my thoughts and experiences into Luna, so I don't know if I'm going to like how this comes out. This story will delve into the caracter that is Luna Lovegood and will show her feelings on things like Ravenclaw house,The Loch Ness Monster, Hogwarts and its teachers, Harry Potter, love, and more.  
  
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(Luna's P.O.V)  
  
"Every time you say you don't believe in fairies another one drops dead to the ground. So clap your hands Luna, Clap your hand and say you believe." My mother used to tell me that, before she died. So I believed. I believed in everything.  
  
Peter Pan was always my favorite. He was my hero. A little boy that could fly without a broom, it was un believable. And that's exactly why I believed it. I would make my mother read the book to me every night before bed until I had every word memorized, and even then I wanted her to read the words in her slow velvety voice. She could make that book sound new every time she read it.  
  
Sometimes I used to sit alone in the neighbors garden and pretend I was a Lost Boy hiding from the pirates and Captain Hook. Playing there until Mr. Boggarty came out and yelled at me for squashing his tomatoes. I'd run around with the gnomes having imaginary swordfights until the night came. Then Id sit quietly in the tall grass and wait for the fireflies to come. I would run and chase the bugs with my empty pickle jar, trying to catch one and find out what exactly makes them glow so brightly.  
  
Those fireflies, they were my fairies, my Tinker Bells. They made the whole story real. But my game was never complete, it was never as fun as I felt it could have been. I needed someone, someone I could teach to fly, to show them my secret Never Land. I needed a Wendy.  
  
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A/N: Ok I know the first chapter was really really short, its mostly an intro. I just didn't want to jump right into things. Tell me if you want more or not. It gets better don't worry. And for whoevers interested- yes my neighbor's name is Mr. Boggarty. He's weird. 


	2. Sort Of Sorted

Chapter Title: Sort Of Sorted  
  
Author: Moody (no relation to the one eyed dude, its my actual name I was born with)  
  
Pairing: None in this chapter but will be G/L and some other femslash pairings  
  
Rating: Still PG-13 but I'm considering an R, depends on the FB  
  
Disclaimer: Guess I forgot the disclaimer last chapter so here's a double dose of its-not-mine-im-just-using-the-characters-for-my-own-twisted- pleasure thing. Err but this plot is mine...I think.  
  
A/N: This is more of Luna's POV. It goes away from the last chapter, which was just an introduction. You will see less I'm-really-crazy-and- ditsy-Luna in this story, but I'll try to keep her the way she is written in the book.  
  
This chapter takes place in The Chamber Of Secrets. It's how Luna gets sorted into Ravenclaw house. It's mostly another introduction.  
  
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(Luna's P.O.V)  
  
"Lovegood, Luna!" Professor McGonagall calls from the front of the Great Hall. I am startled out of my daydream. I really do wonder how they got the expression 'If pigs can fly'. Is there a species of pigs that really can fly, and they're just really rare? Ill have to owl Daddy about that. It would make a really good article for the Quibbler, 'Flying pigs and where they come from page 12'. Sounds good. Could be the creature feature for the month. How exactly could the Ministry keep flying pigs under wraps? Maybe trolls keep them as pets. Makes sense to me.  
  
"LOVEGOOD, LUNA!" The professor calls again. That was not a happy tone. Right. I move to the front of the small group of first years and sit down on the stool that McGonagall has gestured me into. She places a shabby black hat (that seems like it will fall apart any minute now) atop my head and steps back. I wonder if it's true that some teachers put their brains in it years ago? Is that why it smells a little off?  
  
"Lovegood eh?" A small voice whispers in my ear. Talking hat. Should have seen that coming.  
  
"Had your father in her not too long ago, Hufflepuff he was. And your mother a Gryffindor." *Oh right my Mummy*, I think. Two years ago, two years ago next month. What I assume was a dazed look I had on turns into a frown. Experimental spells, never a good idea. I begin to wonder where the flying pigs would live, can't be the city. They have those flying Muggle plane things to deal with. Maybe they like the country?  
  
I realize that this hat is taking quite a while to put me in a house. I wonder if it needs some more teacher brains to help it out? Just as I'm in the middle of this thought the shabby hat yells out:  
  
"RAVENCLAW"  
  
Cheers. Took Hattie there long enough, got to owl Daddy before I forget. "Flying Pigs... Flying Pigs...Flying Pigs." I sing under my breath. Flying pigs and where they live. Remember that.  
  
I take Hattie off my head and wander over to one of the clapping tables and sit down. Some of them are giving me peculiar looks. Seems I've sat down at the wrong table. Yellow means Hufflepuff, O.K. I smile at them, get up, and move to another table. They point me to the kids wearing blue scarves. Follow the blue. Got it. Ravens aren't exactly blue though are they? More like a blackish-purple color.  
  
For a moment I wish I had gotten into the house with the green colored uniforms. Green, that's my favorite color. Peter Pan... green... Mummy. I look over to the green table. Ah scratch that. They don't exactly look like a friendly bunch. I look over to the yellow table I accidentally sat at. Yellow. The Yellow Bellied earwax sucker- on Page 4, Issue 12 of the Quibbler. Wonder if they know that earwax suckers are attracted to yellow? I make a mental note to tell someone in that house. Don't want little creatures eating their ears in the middle of the night do they? Nope.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~************** ~~~~~ A/N: Again sorry for the shortness. Next chapter is longer. Still trying to get a feel for Luna's character and voice. Tell me what you think. ~Moody 


	3. Right in Ravenclaw

Chapter Title: Right in Ravenclaw  
  
Author: Moody (yes it is my real name, my parents were hippies)  
  
Pairing: None in this chapter but will be G/L and some other femslash pairings  
  
Rating: Still PG-13 but I'm considering an R, still depends on the feedback I'm getting.  
  
Disclaimer: I own a small teddy bear that glows in the dark. His name is Snowy. I've had him since I was two. He is quite shabby and has no nose. However I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong to an English lady who doesn't like to share.  
  
A/N: This is mostly more of Luna's inner thoughts, but there is a bit of slash in this chapter so heads up. This chapter is mostly a lead up for the following chapters. Also I've made Luna a bit saner than I think she is in the actual book.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~*** *****(Luna's P.O.V)  
  
I wake up late every morning, and this morning is no different. I think its because I love to dream. I like sleeping too, but it's mostly the dreaming part that I like. I've found that you can dream during the day as well. But people don't like when I do that, especially while they are talking to me or when I happen to be in class. I don't understand this, you can learn a lot when you daydream. Things like- where you most want to be when it's raining. I like being near a window so I can hear the drops falling on the glass. Are raindrops like snow flakes, everyone single one of them different, or are they all the same?  
  
I quickly throw on my jumper and skirt, run into the lavatory, and rush around as I get ready for the day. I look down at my feet; I can't help it if sometimes I forget my socks. They don't match, but what ever does match? Not snow flakes. It's a good thing that I still have time for breakfast, I wanted to nip some cheese and bread and see if I could lure that mouse from underneath my bed. I named him Smee. He looked a bit like a Smee. He has a small limp on his left side. I wonder if mice can grow beards? That would make him look like a pirate even more. I shake my head. A mouse pirate, you're not strange Luna. No way.  
  
I take my time in walking down to breakfast. Staircases can be tricky at Hogwarts. I arrive in the Great Hall a few minutes later than I normally would. Its not a big problem, I sort of like being late. I survey the large room as I walk towards my table. It's crowded this morning, but I'm not surprised. It's Saturday and I assume there's a quidditch match today, which would be the only reason so many people are here. Usually half of Ravenclaw is in the library studying or researching for a class. We like to be prepared.  
  
I sit down between two quiet fourth year girls. They smirk over my head and give each other what they think must be a secret look. Even now in my fifth year at Hogwarts I still wonder why I was sorted into Ravenclaw. My housemates and I don't have much in common; they were born to learn. I wouldn't be surprised if some of they came out of the womb knowing the alphabet or the 9 times tables. I like the 9 times tables the best. There's a secret to them, just go backwards down from 9 with the first digit and forwards from 0 with the second, and you can know them all real easy. Nine is a great number. Not as interesting as 17 or 11, but good just the same.  
  
Ravenclaws are good with numbers, statistics. We can remember an entire chart of Arithmancy problems, but ask us what we had for lunch yesterday and we are stumped. I think we have what is called selective memory. At the same time Ravenclaws are sharp-witted, intelligent (if a bit forgetful). This is why I'm not at all like them. I'm not a dummy, that's not what I mean. But there are more important things than getting an O on all my O.W.L exams. Things like the small invisible Dugong Snails that are currently living in populate areas. They enjoy the smog. It's a miracle I ever became a Ravenclaw prefect.  
  
I look around the packed Great Hall. I'm not sure what house I would be in if I wasn't in Ravenclaw. My mom was in Gryffindor. My wide eyes wander to the red clad students talking amongst themselves. No, I'm not nearly brave or courageous enough to be in there. How about their rivals the Slytherins? Ah, no. I'm not very shrew or ambitious (and I think you have to hate Harry Potter to be in that house, and I don't). That leaves Hufflepuff, my father's old house. No offence to him or them, but I would hope I have a bit more character and brains than the Hufflepuffs do. So Ravenclaw it is then eh? Well I have been in it for five years and I don't think changing would be allowed anyway.  
  
I glance around my table and my eyes fall upon a select few individuals. You see Ravenclaws are what I would like to call...misinterpreted. Are they brainy? Sure they are, Ravenclaws live for classes and grades. Are we eccentric? Well, take a look around. I think we are. Are we really that nerdy? Oh yes. But there is a side to the Ravenclaws that not very many people get to see. The truth is that Ravenclaws can be almost as stubborn and cruel as the Slytherins.  
  
My point is proven as I listen to some of the chatter that is flying around our table faster than Harry Potter on a broomstick. A tall brunette sixth year is whispering to a pretty blond girl with braids. Her 'whispering' could use some work seeing as I am half way down the table and I can hear her perfectly well.  
  
She says "Any way, I was talking to Derek yesterday after charms. You know him right? He is really cute and tall, kind of stupid? Good. So Derek goes ' Do you want to meet me at Hogsmeade this weekend and HANG OUT?' That little git. What is that supposed to mean anyway- 'hang out'? So does that mean it's like a date? It's a date right? Please tell me that we aren't going to actually hang out?"  
  
Her blond friend shakes her head and vainly tries to change the subject. "I don't know, but did you see how short Pansy's skirt was today? You could completely see her knickers when she sat down. I hear that she and Draco Malfoy were caught last night in the Astronomy tower, and I don't think they were up there to look at the stars- if you know what I'm talking about."  
  
On the other end of the table Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang is talking to one of her many friends about flying broomsticks. This has become a daily ritual of hers. A few weeks ago her parents bought her a Nimbus 2001 and sent it to school by owl. As of late this is all she wants to talk about. I'm pretty sure this is why many people are avoiding her at meal times.  
  
"The Firebolt is completely overrated. I'm telling you it's really not all that special. And if you ask me the Nimbus name still means something. Just ask anyone! OK the Firebolt has better speed and agility. So what? That's not everything. Does the Firebolt have character like my Nimbus? I don't think so!"  
  
This is what we like to call denial. Much like when Hermione Granger says that there are no such thing as a Boeztrode. I know for a fact that many of them are mistaken for Woodland Fairies and only when you hold one upside down can you tell what it really is. I can't help it if no one can get close enough to a woodland fairy to hold it upside down. Its just one of those things you can't fix.  
  
"Gross! Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall were going at it in the broom shed? You really think so? Wow I'm not going in there again! Wonder if its true... it doesn't sound so far off the mark. There seems to be some sexual tension anyway... weren't they both in Gryffindor? Anyway did you hear about that whole thing with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff being lovers?"  
  
This is usually where I tend to zone out, and again, today is no different. I try and think about what the diet of a Giant Roach Toad (Page 8, issue 6 of the Quibbler) consists of, but I can only seem to remember that it involves baby's toes or something like that. It seems that the crazy rumor about Hooch and McGonagall was stuck in my mind. People tend to believe anything that goes around these days. Gullible.  
  
Not bothering to look and see if anyone was watching, I grab a few slices of cheese for Smee and put them in my pocket. I just hope I wont forget they're there. Moldy cheese in pockets isn't very attractive... not that I care about being attractive. The mail arrives just as I am checking my other pockets for mold of any kind, and brown screech owl plops down in front of me. I suppose that Daddy must be writing again. Good I need a few sickles for Hogsmeade this weekend. I want to buy Witch Weekly and see if it's true that when you soak it in a revealing potion it turns into a guide to Hogwarts' secret flower gardens.  
  
I relieve the owl of its letter and watch it fly away. This reminds me of something but I can't seem to recall it. Flying animals of some sort. I shrug my shoulders and hum a tune that has popped into my head. I carefully open the letter, unfold the parchment and start to read.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
Hullo Lovely Luna,  
  
Hope you've had a good term with lots of new discoveries! I am writing to tell you that I am going to Scotland. I don't have to tell you why do I? You know it has always been my dream to study the Loch Ness Monster. I am putting the Quibbler on hold for the moment so that I can travel around and discover the proof and facts needed to find the 'monster'. I have complete confidence in my abilities to prove that Nessie truly exists.  
  
Unfortunately I cannot take you on this exciting adventure with me. I know how much you enjoyed our last trip to Transylvania, (I'm still quite sore after all that horseback riding) and how you wanted so much to find that underground base the Ministry of Magic created. However this trip I am taking is far too dangerous for a young girl to be on, even if she is a smart prefect like you!  
  
I have already contacted the Weasley family and they said you could stay with them over the upcoming holiday break. I know that you would want to spend Christmas with me, but I'm afraid it's not possible. But be assured I will send you many presents and souvenirs form my adventure. Have fun and wish your father good luck!  
  
Love and Kisses  
  
~Daddy  
  
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	4. Comfortably Awkward

Chapter Title: Comfortably Awkward.  
  
Author: Moody (not the man with one eye)  
  
Pairing: None in this chapter but will be Ginny/Luna and some other girl/girl pairing.  
  
Rating: Still PG-13 but I'm considering an R, still depends on the feedback I'm getting. And if anyone you know...wants R rated fun.  
  
Disclaimer: If you think I am the brilliant, creative, talented woman who invented the Harry Potter universe...well I won't correct you.  
  
A/N: Takes place at Christmas time. I really wanted to get Luna's thoughts on Ginny and the Weasleys right so this might take a while. It goes more into the Luna/Ginny relationship, and there will defiantly be some femslash in the next few chapters...but it might not be whom you think.  
  
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(Luna's P.O.V)  
  
Large heavy flakes fall upon my warm pink cheek. It's snowing. I love the snow; it's so much better than the rain. Rain just makes people sad all the time. I can remember when I used to make forts and Igloos in my backyard whenever we had snowstorms. I would pretend I was lost in the artic, injured and waiting for someone to come and rescue me from the freezing cold. I imagined they would take me into their cozy log cabin and feed me hot soup in front of a blazing fire. We could trade stories about Eskimos and polar bears. Then we could travel the artic together, so neither of us would ever be alone. But no one ever came to rescue me.  
  
The angry sound of a loud train whistle pulls me from my frozen memories. The fire red Hogwarts Express train waits impatiently to be boarded by the straggling students. Half of Hogwarts is leaving this year, going home for the Christmas holidays. I'm glad the Weasleys are letting me stay with them; I would have been the only fifth year staying behind if they hadn't. I do wonder what poor Ms. Weasley will do with all the guests she is taking in this year. Harry, Hermione, and I are all going to be staying with them, and it will be crowded no doubt. Not that the Burrow isn't crowded already.  
  
I heave my trunk up the tall steps and into the large cargo area, thankful that I had preformed a lightweight charm on it earlier. But even with the charm the stuid trunk was still heavier than me. Figures. When my trunk was secure I headed through the train and down to the last compartment, where the prefects who were returning home planned on meeting. I suspect it will just be a few of us going home. Prefects usually stay for Christmas so they can study, but I think Daddy would want me out of school for the holidays.  
  
Daddy was so happy and proud when I made prefect; he even put an announcement in the Quibbler about it (next to the Fire Eating Snorlax article). I was just really surprised that I even had the grades to get prefect, my potions are always quite abysmal. Professor Snape was furious at me the last potions class I had before break. I almost poisoned poor Michael Corner when we were supposed to be making Relaxing potions. Professor said I had brewed a Mind Melting potion by accident. He didn't like when I pointed out that Michael would be more relaxed if he didn't have a brain.  
  
Being a prefect and getting good grades is a huge deal in Ravenclaw. Last year there were quite a few fights over who was going to be made prefect, and some of the girls are still upset I got it. They said that Flitwick and Dumbledore both favored me because I was involved in the battle at the ministry. I suppose they may have had something to do with it, but I'd also like to think that well...I'm smart.  
  
When I reach the last compartment I wander in playing with my bottle cap necklace and thinking about the Loch Ness Monster. It's probably not very dangerous...right? There are only four people in the prefect compartment, like I suspected most are staying at Hogwarts. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Cho Chang, and Ginny Weasley are all there. Hermione and Ron are sitting together by the windows, talking in hushed voices (most likely about Harry Potter) and sending worried glances at each other. They stop their conversation momentarily and look at me as I sit down near the door.  
  
Cho Chang is fiddling with her Head Girl badge, trying to see if it looked better on the left or right side of her robes. She hadn't even looked up when I entered the compartment. I don't know much about Cho, except she's two years ahead of me and quite popular. She was in Dumbledore's Army I remember; but from what some of the girls in Ravenclaw say, that might have been just to see Harry Potter. After she was made quidditch captain to go along with being Head Girl there was quite a celebration in the Ravenclaw common room.  
  
Actually I wouldn't know much about it, I was in the Owlry trying to get a subscription to Wanda's Weekly Whisper. A witch in St. Mungos (who is supposedly crazy) writes all the articles. She is in there for trying to ive herself a beak and trying to jump off bridges, she has a small obsession with pigeons they say. Truthfully I think she's quite brilliant and witty. Last week she dedicated the entire magazine to a leprechaun's feet. It was enlightening.  
  
I look over at Ginny; she is unusually quiet; normally you can't shut her up, not that you would want to. Her long legs are curled underneath her and she has a faraway gaze upon her face that I am quite familiar with. I look like that a lot; it means I'm dreaming or you know...bored. I stare hard at Ginny. She is quite the amazing specimen, one of the most interesting people to watch. Ginny's movements are predictable and graceful, while still being sudden and abrupt. She's also hard to explain. I can't think of one good word to sum her up.  
  
I remember last week I was watching her eat lunch. She completely fumbled with her goblet and spilled pumpkin juice all over herself. But instead of blushing or something that she might have done before, Ginny grabbed a handful of mashed potatoes from the table and smeared them all over her robes. She said it was "To match the look." Every one in fifth year laughed and they soiled themselves with lunch too, following her example. Whenever someone asked about it Ginny just piped up and stated it was the new fashion in Hogwarts. She is quite the specimen.  
  
Ginny is looking over at me now; her eyes are large and wet. As if she wants to cry but at the same time is trying hard not too. I haven't seen her cry since our third year. She gives me a smile, one of those fake ones that the other girls in Ravenclaw give me when I sit next to them at meals. She knows she's not fooling me with it. I raise my eyebrows look her over once and give her a small smile back. I hope it was reassuring. Ginny opens her mouth as if she is going to speak when the train starts to move, bucking forward on its tracks. We are headed away from Hogwarts now. Going home. Or wherever.  
  
Cho stands up (her badge is on the right, it looks quite ridiculous with her Arrows badge on too) and looks around at all of us. She tells us that we can leave if we want to, but that we should go around to all the compartments every hour and check on things. After a last look at us she sweeps out of the compartment and goes to find her friends. Ron and Hermione also get up and they both look over to Ginny. Ron speaks loudly.  
  
"Were off then. Going to find Harry, want to come Ginny?" As he says this Ginny flinches and looks at him as if startled that someone was speaking to her. Ginny is quiet for a moment, deciding whether to go or not. But then she looks at me and shakes her head no. She gives them a dismissing wave and tells them that she will see them later. Ron looks at me awkwardly and Hermione nudges him in my direction. Yes very subtle Granger. Ron rolls his eyes and gives me a small wave.  
  
"Eh...Hi there Luna." He mumbles.  
  
"Hullo Ronald." I reply, my eyes still on Ginny. Ron shuffles from one foot to another and gives Hermione a pleading look. She lets out an audible sigh and walks away, Ron close on her heels. Ron takes a last long look back at Ginny and shakes his head. I hear him mutter something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like 'ridiculous girls'. Charming lad that one is. He leaves and they close the compartment door behind them with a loud snap.  
  
A long silence follows that snap. Ginny and I are alone now. I look at her and catch her staring at me. She quickly averts her gaze out the window. What was that about? For a long time after we both just sit there. I'm looking at Ginny and she's looking out the window at the snow-covered foliage that passes us by. I try not to wonder what shes thinking about.  
  
I get up and sit in the empty seat next to her. I mimic her pose and fold my legs under me as I sit, careful not to squish the Quibbler in my pocket. Our legs bump and are resting against each other, but she makes no move to change this. She is still looking out the window at the landscape that quickly goes by. We are still very quiet, resting in a silence that is both awkward and comfortable.  
  
That's how Ginny is. She's awkward and comfortable both at the same time. When ever she is doing a spell or brewing a potion all of her movements seem carefully calculated and graceful. I think Professor Snape really admires her; she's the best in potions in our entire year. She even beat out the entire Slytherin house, much to their disapproval. That caused a few frowns no doubt.  
  
But she does get awkward. Everyone can remember a time when Ginny blushed or stammered. She used to do it daily. It does seem that she has gotten more self-confident though. She can talk to Harry Potter without making a complete ass out of herself, so I guess that shows improvement. But her family is what makes her awkward.  
  
I don't know whether she is too embarrassed, or too proud of them. It's most likely a mixture of both. Its very much common knowledge that the Weasleys aren't well off, everyone knows that. Just like everyone knows that there isn't a nicer set of redheads in the whole world? Yet Ginny shrinks back into the shy bumbling girl we all once knew whenever she is around them. It could be the pressure of being the only daughter, or being the youngest. I wouldn't know.  
  
A small sigh from Ginny breaks the silence and breaks my thoughts. She is looking at her feet, her hands playing with the laces of her sneakers. I suppose she thinks I'm going to ask what's wrong. But I won't, I learned long ago that when it comes to Ginny matters like this should be taken slowly. She can have a nasty temper sometimes, its one of the things that's so interesting about her. Even the litlest thing can tick her off. Also at the same time everyone around her can be getting upset, but she remains calm. She sighs louder this time, I think she might be trying to get my attention.  
  
Her gaze drags up slowly from her sneakers, past my body, and to my eyes. Her eyes are again large and wet; I think she is going to cry. Her gaze is so penetrating that I have to look away. Only Ginny could make me do that.  
  
I am surprised when I feel her hand move across her legs and reach into mine. Hers is warm. Rough from playing Quidditch. Her fingers are longer than I thought they would be. I hope to Merlin that mine aren't as cold and clammy as I think they are. Her fingers wrap around mine holding the palm of my hand tight against hers. I think I can feel her pulse. It's strange how just holding Ginny's hand could make me feel more pleasure than anything I've felt before. No one has ever wanted to hold my hand before.  
  
I realize that I have been staring at our locked hands, and I almost miss the look that Ginny is giving me. Her head is so close to mine I could count the freckles on her nose. When she speaks it sounds as if she's whispering, and if I don't strain my ears to hear it I might miss something.  
  
"Luna?" She asks. "Have you ever been in love?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Sorry guys. I'll try and be quicker with the updates; this story isn't finished yet so I still have no clue what's going to happen for the most part. But I will have more to come soon. Promise. 


	5. Remembering Her

I realize that I have been staring at our locked hands, and I almost miss the look that Ginny is giving me. Her head is so close to mine I could count the freckles on her nose. When she speaks it sounds as if she's whispering, and if I don't strain my ears to hear it I might miss something.

"Luna?" She asks. "Have you ever been in love?"

Love.

The dictionary (yes, I have looked it up before, I'm a Ravenclaw aren't I?) defines love as a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness. To have a feeling of intense desire toward a person.

And well...in muggle tennis it means you have no points. But that's not what I think Ginny meant. I loved my Mom, and I love my Daddy, but Ginny didn't mean that either.

She means the love you share for another person. A deep feeling of attraction and devotion. The feeling that stirs your inner bats and butterflies, it makes you sick to your stomach in the most delightful way. The sweaty palms, shaky legs, about to turn to jelly kind of love. I've only felt that once before. Two summers ago. She lived next door to me. Giselle. The girl I am always trying to forget. The summer I am trying to forget. Love...

Two Summers Ago

I was sitting in the garden again. It had become a sort of ritual for me. I woke up, brushed my teeth, and ate breakfast with Daddy. After I ran upstairs to my bedroom, threw on a pair of slacks, kissed daddy goodbye as he disapparated for work, took my sketchbook (decorated with pictures of fruit) and went into the garden. My mother's old garden.

Daddy says that when they were in Hogwarts together my mother spent all of her spare time in the green houses. She loved Herbology almost as much as Experimental Charms. Daddy joked that she had a green thumb. Well she actually did. Potions accident I guess. They never talked about it.

Our neighbors always want to know how she did it. How she got things to grow when the land was too dry, or no rain had come. They wanted to know what her secret was. What special garden spells did she use? Was it a soil enrichment charm, or a vegetation potion? The truth or course was that she had no secret, no extra special thing she did to make her garden grow so well. It was just hard work and plenty of weeding. She would water her plants until they were soaking and take care of them as if they were her children.

She taught me everything she knew about gardening. She showed me all the good plants to attract humming birds (my favorite at the time), how transplants need extra care and attention, that you have to be a bit mean to the bugs in order to keep the plant healthy. I hated watching her blast away the caterpillars and worms, I felt so bad until spring came and I saw all the beautiful flowers we had. Then I got over it.

She grew so many things each year, they were always different. Daises, morning glories, pansies, mums, daffodils, and lilacs. Even exotic ones like jasmine, red ginger, orchids, and jade. She kept them going all year long, using greenhouse spells, so we could enjoy them.

When I was a baby she would take me out at night in my little white baby carriage and we would sit together in that garden. That's how I got my name. Luna means "the moon" in Latin. And Luna was the Roman goddess of the moon, shown driving a white chariot through the sky. She was so proud of me. I was her little gardener. We shared so many good times together there. But when my mother died, her beautiful garden died with her.

I can remember standing in my black funeral dress just staring at that garden, thinking that nothing should be allowed to be that beautiful when people are hurting. The garden was neglected, I didn't want to see it and my father didn't have the heart to work in it. The once beautiful flowers wilted. The shrubs shriveled and died, becoming a shell of what they once were. Our garden turned to dust and became overrun with weeds.

The garden lay forgotten for years until I came home in the summer after my third year. I was finally feeling better about my mom, and able to see past it. I focused on the Quibbler with Dad, and helped him find new stories to print. On a particularly hot day in June, I went outside with my copy of _Really Really Rare Beasts and Where You May Find Them...Maybe _and my sketchbook.

I looked around at our yard. The grass was brown and rotted, there was no place to lie out and enjoy the sun. Our willow trees had died and were broken in two. I no longer felt the way I had years ago when I lost my Mom. The garden didn't suit my mood at all. It just made things feel worse. I wished to be happy, wanted so much to enjoy life again. I decided to start with the garden. I spent all summer fixing the yard, weeding, raking and planting things my mother and I used to grow. I wanted happier memories than the ones I had been left with.

Before I knew it an entire summer went by, I had restored our garden to its former self. Thousands of pulled weeds, hundreds of bulbs planted, countless sunburns, and one really mean lawn gnome later the garden was beautiful again. Flowering in the heat of summer and offering shade from the sun. Every time I enter it I whisper a little hello to my mother. And sometimes…I think I hear her whisper back.

One day I was sitting among the daffodils sipping ice-cold pumpkin juice, and it seemed to be hotter than usual. I had my sketchbook on my lap brand new, ready for drawing. I opened it to a blank page and felt the paper softly with my hands. It was crisp and new, like a fresh loaf of bread. I looked around for something to draw and began to chew lazily on my quill.

I spotted a small sparrow sitting in the new birdbath I just had gotten. I drew the ovals that became its body and the small rectangles that will form wings. Harsh lines for its feathers and small scratches for legs. The sparrow quickly took form upon the paper. It hopped across the neat green lawn; it's head swiveling in search of food. Mom always thought our lawn was too neat. Grass isn't meant to grow in straight lines she said. Daddy joked that the 'grass is always neater on the other side'. His humor still needs some work.

The sparrow flew into the air towards the east up over the neighboring houses, and a flash of gold caught my eye. I scrambled over to the small white picket fence that separated my house form Mr. Boggarty's, our stingy old neighbor. Lying on the Boggarty's lawn was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was sprawled across a fluffy blue towel, her head nestled snugly into the crook of her arm. I crawled closer.

She was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a bathing suit top, hot pink. I dragged my eyes up away from her toes (so tiny and cute). Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, and seemed to go on for days as I ran my eyes along them. Her faded jeans looked white in the bright sun, I noticed they were unbuttoned and were showing a hint of her pink bathing suit bottom.

I started to sweat. It was getting kind of hot outside, I thought. Her tiny tummy rose and fell with her slow breathing. Her belly button (an inny I observed) had what looked like a small silver hook through it. I wondered why anyone would want to pierce such a cute belly, but I had to admit the effect was...nice. It felt like my eyes had a will of their own as they roamed her chest. I glanced down at my own small one...it certainly didn't look like that.

Her swimsuit was cut low I (gleefully) noticed, giving just a slight hint of her ample cleavage. Around her neck was a pretty gold necklace it glimmered in the sun. That must have been the gold flash I had seen before. I wasn't close enough to see what the pendant on the necklace was so I crawled even closer and leaned against the small white fence. It was a heart.

I could see her freckles now, sprinkling across her face, dotting her cute upturned nose. Her eyes were closed in slumber, so I could only guess what amazing color they might be. Green, I decided, like the ocean. Her hair whipped around in the light breeze and distracted me once more. I clutched the quill in my hand, wishing that I had a box of paints instead. But it didn't matter much anyway; I could have all the colors in the word and never be able to get the beauty of this girl right. I had never seen someone like her before. All curves and hips, and legs and neck, and wow it was really hot outside.

Before I could even realize what I was doing, I started to draw. It never felt rude or intrusive, like it may have felt to other people. I just felt like I HAD to. Something that pretty, that beautiful, had to be put down on paper and never be forgotten.

She started to form upon my page. Smooth ovals that became her body, small rectangles that formed hips. The subtle curve of cleavage, and the soft shading on the lips. Oh Merlin those lips. So dark and full compared to my own thin chapped ones. As the girl slept a tiny bit of drool was forming at the corners of them. I smiled, the Goddess drools. I hastily drew her, not wanting to lose the look of contentment on her dreaming face. I tried to shade her skin, but I couldn't. It was like all of the shades melted together, like someone had put too much milk in their tea. It was so smooth looking, slightly bronzed by the summer sun.

I don't know how long I sat there, how long I drew and stared. I was finishing the drawing, trying to get just the curl of her toes right, when I felt that prickling on the back of my neck. The one you get when you know someone's watching. And when I looked to at her once more before finishing my picture, her eyes were open. That beautiful girl was awake and she was looking right back at me. I was half right about her eyes. One of them was a light sea green, the other a dark blue. And both of them were fixated on my own. She was staring, and she was smiling. And, oh dear Merlin, she was starting to stand up.

I didn't know what to do. I froze, like I was petrified, and just stood there like a deer in headlights, just wishing that I had worn a better pair of jeans. The ones I was wearing had patches where the knees were (from kneeling over the roses) and grass stains all over (from countless spills chasing invisible pirates). I tried to discreetly wipe the dirt off of my bottom (since when had I cared how I looked?). And I hoped I wasn't all sweaty. And I hoped she didn't think I was spying on her...because I wasn't. I was just...observing...carefully.

She was coming over to the fence. I clutched my sketchbook in front of myself, as a kind of shield, and then remembered what I had just drawn. Oh Circe.

The beautiful girl stopped in front of me, extremely close. I could see the tan lines from her bikini top. I could feel the urge to wipe them smoothly away, or run my hands along the hidden paleness. Goddess Luna get a grip, think Leprechauns...Fiery Nymphs, anything but her body. I feet her gazing at me again, and I feet rightly embarrassed for looking at her that way. But when I searched out her miss-matched eyes I could see her scanning me too. She had to look down to do this, as she was about three or four inches taller than me, perfect dancing height. Yeah great idea Luna, I thought, just ask her to waltz right here in the garden (thank god the little white picket fence was there or I might have).

I realized then that she has just said something, but as I was lost in a daydream of us waltzing among the petunias, I hadn't heard. She was going to think I'm insane (like that's the first time I've heard that).

"Err...Hi," I muttered to my feet. Quickly I hid my face behind my hair (don't ask why, I mean when was the last time I was shy?). This girl was making my insides squirm in an almost delightfully excruciating way. When I snuck a peak at her from behind my curtain of blond hair she was looping her long legs over the short fence.

Surprised, I tried to back away to make room for her (or maybe to run away, I was so panicked I couldn't tell), but being the graceful Ravenclaw that I am, I fell on my arse. Legs stretched out in front of me and my head hitting a rather large pruning tool, I practically got knocked unconscious. Seems I'd tripped over a root or something (or more likely my own feet).

As soon as I had fallen the beautiful girl had rushed to my side and put my head into her lap to keep it stable. I think she had asked if I was ok, but all I could manage was a nod. My hair was brushing against her bare leg and her face was directly above mine. I could see a bead of sweat run slowly down her collarbone. She ran her hands through my hair feeling for cuts and bumps, but her touch just sent electric currents through me like I had never felt before. I let out a small moan.

"Oh...I'm sorry" She said, looking worried and quickly removing her hands. "Does it hurt?" Luckily she misinterpreted the moan, but I still wished her hands had stayed on me. I shook my head and gingerly tried to lift myself off of the ground. When I turned to look at her she had such a sympathetic smile on her face. Merlin she must thought I was such a git, tripping over nothing and falling on my arse, but she patted my knee in a reassuring way. "You're O.K" She said, making it sound more like a statement that a question. I nodded mutely again. Now I looked stupid and clumsy, perfect. I racked my brains for something intelligent to say, but I highly doubted she would care to know what kind of worms could be ground up to make an excellent fertilizer.

But she wasn't looking at me anyway; she was gazing around the garden with a look of sheer wonder upon her face (the way I imagine I must of looked when she caught me gazing at her). The expression was truly priceless.

"Oh my. I...th-this is lovely" She stuttered. I looked around too. Yes it really was a sight, not quite as pretty as when my mom was alive, but still. It was come along. In one fluid motion she lifted herself to her feet and held out a hand to help me up. I took it and she helped to hoist me upright again. Instead of letting go of my hand she gave it a gentle shake.

"I'm Giselle," She said quietly. It fitted her. Giselle, like a deer, with long, graceful, muscular legs...not that I noticed or anything...no way. Oh. I realized that she has been waiting for me to introduce myself (and I had been looking at her legs again).

"I'm...ah...err..." Oh hell, I'd forgotten my name again. I think she was trying not to laugh at my dilemma. Well, it was very polite of her. Then I remembered who I was again.

"Luna. Luna is me...I mean...I'm Luna" I blurted out.

"Pleased to meat you Luna" She giggled and smiled that gorgeous smile, and I felt my legs metaphorically turn to porridge or some other mushy breakfast food. She was still holding my hand. Her fingers were longer than mine and tickled the backs of my knuckles.

I don't know how much times passed as we stood there silently in the garden, surrounded by the smell of freshly dug earth and lilies. I was content to just hold her hand and look into moss and sky colored eyes. I really could've stayed there all day, and probably would've if Mr. Boggarty hadn't come out of his house yelling my companions name.

"GISELLE! Time for lunch" The stubby old man howled off of his back porch. His wrinkled face contorted into a forced smile when he saw me. He has been spending more and more time with Daddy lately. His wife had died this pass winter and I think they had been talking together about losing a spouse, but I guess Mr. B still thought that I was strange (don't ask me why).

Spotting the old man, Giselle moved quickly away from me, taking back her (slightly sweaty) hand and moving a few steps to the left. It was disappointing. I mean we hadn't done anything wrong, had we? And had I imagined it or did she squeeze my hand before she let go? I looked at her and she gave me another one of those heart melting slow smiles. She was all lips. She was so…gorgeous.

"Sorry Luna, I've got to go," She whispered "But I've got a feeling I'll see you around."

And with a quick wink (the blue eye) she turned away and jogged to the fence, and with out a hand on it she gracefully leapt over it and into Mr. Boggarty's yard. I was right, I thought to myself, a dancer's legs.


End file.
